Child's Play
by Cajun Quinn
Summary: Candra the External wreaks havoc when Tante Mattie and most of the thieves are away and it's up to Remy and Emil, with help from an ill Zoe to look after things. Please r/r if ya don't mind, thanks! ;)
1. Popsicles, Mashed Potatoes and Immortals

Child's Play

Child's Play

(NOTE: Sometimes the things that come out of my head astound me. As my favorite band, BNL would say, "I can do anything". Hehehe. As always, none of them belong to me…Marvel owns 'em. I'm just borrowing them for the sake of shutting up the voices in my head. Inspiration is a weird thing…and so is my mind…)

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Chapter One: Popsicles, Mashed Potatoes and Immortals

"Okay, now Emil, de Advil is in de medicine cabinet in de bathroom, make sure you don' give her more'n two at a time an'--"

"No more'n eight a day. I know Tante." 

Tante Mattie cast a frustrated look at the red-haired young man in front of her. Really, Emil could be annoying at times. Still, she continued with the instructions, knowing that once she and the other thieves were gone, the twenty-five-year-old would be on his own with the sole responsibility of taking care of a bed-ridden Zoe, who had the flu.

"Dere are popsicles in de freezer; if she gets a fever, let her eat as many of dem as she wants to. Make sure she drinks a lot of water an' orange juice. An' I know she won' feel like it, but she has to eat. De money in de jar on de shelf in de pantry is for emergencies only, not for take out food. Dere isn' a number where you can reach us, so if you have a problem or an emergency--"

Emil rolled his blue eyes. He was starting to get annoyed himself. "Call Gambit. Oui, I know. Tante we've been over dis eighteen times! I get it!"

Emil's cousin Theoren raised his eyebrows, his dark brown eyes flashing warningly. "Emil…"

"Sheesh…." Emil groaned. "Look, guys jus' go okay? You're gon' be late. I got all de instructions in my head, I won' forget dem, an' if I do, I'll call Remy, I promise, okay? I can do dis. I'm not a kid. Trust me."

Tante Mattie glanced at Mercy, Claude and Genard, who were waiting by the door. "Maybe I shouldn' be goin'…not when Zoe's sick…"

Seeing the distress in Emil's face, Mercy chuckled. "Tante Mattie, c'mon. Emil's perfectly capable of takin' care of Zoe. We need you t' come wit' us. Dey'll be okay."

"Alright." Tante Mattie sighed. Before she followed the three of them out the door, she paused and looked at Emil. "You be good."

Emil mock-saluted the stout black lady. "Yes ma'am."

Tante Mattie joined the others outside in the car, but Theoren stayed behind for a few moments to speak to his young cousin. He had to laugh as Emil shook his head.

"Get de reputation for bein' an obnoxious, immature brat an' it'll follow you 'round for de rest of your frickin' life!" Emil squeaked in annoyance.

"You're one of a kind, cousin. An' none of us would have it any other way. I know you an' Zoe will be fine. Jus' don' get into trouble. I'd hate to have to prove to everyone dat I can still kick your butt."

"Aww…Theo, jus' go, would ya?" Emil complained.

Theoren laughed again. "Okay, I'm goin'. Oh, an' Tante an' I asked Bel an' de others to let you guys be. You don' need five assassins buggin' you when you're tryin' to take care of Zoe."

"T'anks Theo."

Theoren went for the door, but stopped with his hand on the doorknob. He had just remembered something else. "Oh I almost forgot," he said, reaching into the pocket of his jeans and pulling out some money, which he handed to Emil. "Here."

Emil stared at the five crisp twenty-dollar bills in his hand with a look of pure astonishment. Theoren never gave anybody money for any reason. Ever. "What's dis for?"

"I know you, Red. You'll cook for de sake of makin' Zoe eat, mais, you won' cook to feed yourself. Dis way you won' have to take Tante's money." Theoren replied.

Emil's sparkly blue eyes widened in gratitude. "Wow…t'anks Theo. You're too good to me…"

"Yeah well. Somebody has to be. An' b'lieve me, you owe me, cousin. Big time. See you in a week. Have fun."

"I'll try. You too."

After watching the car pull out of the driveway, Emil stuffed the hundred dollars in the pocket of his jeans and went up the stairs. He decided he might as well check up on Zoe and see if she needed anything. He was bound and determined to do a bang-up job taking care of her and keeping things in order, if only to prove to the others, and maybe to himself as well, that he could.

Zoe's small room was lost in a semi-dark cascade of shadows. The pale pink and cream curtains that matched everything else in the room were drawn in an effort to keep the bright New Orleans sunshine from hurting her head more than it already was hurting. Zoe was lying in her bed, tucked neatly under the pink and cream quilt, her dark hair contrasting with the lightness of the pillow. She was on her back, staring at the ceiling. When she heard Emil come in, she tilted her head and looked at him, her dark eyes bright but thoughtful.

"Are they gone yet?" she asked him, lightly patting the edge of the bed in a request for him to sit.

Emil took the offer, careful not to disturb her. "Oui, jus' a few minutes ago. Dey prob'ly woulda left earlier, but Tante Mattie had to go over de instructions one more time…sheesh…"

Zoe laughed. "She's only trying to take care of us." She chided her friend gently.

"I know dat, but she's not de only one who can, ya know? How are you feelin', anyways?"

"Every muscle and bone in my body aches." Zoe replied, shifting slightly on the bed in an attempt to get more comfortable. It didn't work and she sighed miserably.

"I'm sorry…can I get you anyt'ing? When was de last time you took some Advil, do you know?"

"It was only two hours ago." 

Emil checked his watch and made note of the time. "Well, I can' give you any more until four o'clock, but would you like a popsicle? Dat might help some…"

Zoe smiled wearily. "That would be nice. Can I have orange, please?"

"You can have whatever you want to, Zoe." Emil replied. "I'll be right back."

Less than five minutes later, Emil returned with an orange popsicle and a bowl, in case it dripped. He didn't want to get any stains on that pretty bedspread of hers. He didn't exactly like the bedspread, it clashed with his Archie Andrews hair, but it was still a nice bedspread and an orange popsicle stain would ruin it.

"Thank you, Emil." Zoe said, taking the cool treat and relishing how good it felt on her sore throat.

"You're welcome. I brought somet'ing else too. Tante Mattie used to use dis t'ing all de time, when we were babies, or so she says. It's like a walkie-talkie or a monitor. You can keep dis one here an' I'll keep de other one wit' me. Dat way if you need me an' I'm not within' actual callin' distance, like if I'm in de kitchen or de TV room or somet'ing, you can still reach me." Emil explained, handing one of the walkie-talkie things to her.

"That is such a great idea." Zoe said, placing it on the table beside her bed. "Thanks."

"Pas de problem. Now, is dere anyt'ing else you need b'fore I go? Dey were real nice, left me some dishes to do, so I t'ought I'd get dem done now b'fore supper. Actually, dat's a better question…do you have any idea what you feel like to eat for supper?"

"Hmmm…no I don't think in need anything else right now, and if I do, I can call you." Zoe replied while sucking on the popsicle. "As for supper…mashed potatoes would be good."

"Okay then. Mashed potatoes it is." Emil got up and headed for the door. "I'll come up when I'm done de dishes an' check on you, alright?"

"Sure. Hey Emil? The assassins aren't going to give you a hard time or anything this week are they? I mean technically, it's you against them if they _do_ decide to pick on you. Those aren't great odds." Zoe commented.

Emil stuck his head back in the door with a wry grin. "Theo said he an' Tante asked dem to leave us alone. I'm sure dey won' give me any problems, an' if dey do, all I have to do is call Remy an' he'll straighten dem out. Don' worry 'bout it."

A few minutes later, up to his elbows in dishwater, Emil thought of something. He stopped in mid-wash, with the cloth in one hand and a bowl in the other, a look of slight panic on his pale, freckled face.

'I've never made mashed potatoes in my _life_…' he thought in horror. 'I've never even watched anybody _else_ make dem. Oh man. Well, it can' be dat difficult…I'll jus' do what I t'ink is right an' if I have any problems…I'll…I'll jus'…ask Bel…yeah…dat's it. She'll know…won' she...?'

Emil continued washing the dishes with only one thought going through his mind. 'Dis gon' be a _long_ week…'

Standing outside the safehouse, unable to be seen by anybody due to an invisibility spell she had put over herself, Candra, the immortal benefactress of the New Orleans Guilds, was watching and plotting.

She hadn't stirred up trouble with the Guilds for awhile, and was bored to tears with their valiant attempt at a peaceful unification. So she was there to kick up a little trouble. And she was going to enjoy it. Oh yes, was she ever. 

Candra giggled to herself as she listened in on Emil's thoughts. "You think you're in for a long week, looking after your friend, my dear young thief? Well I hate to break it to you, and I won't, but you have no idea just how long it's going to be. It's high time I had a little fun with you foolish mortals and I believe I have thought of the perfect way to do it. You'll see." She whispered to the bushes and trees around her.

To Be Continued


	2. Bathrooms, Advil and Early Morning Phone...

Chapter Two: Bathrooms, Advil and Early Morning Phone Calls

Chapter Two: Bathrooms, Advil and Early Morning Phone Calls

"Emil? Emil can you hear me?" Zoe's voice filtered through Emil's sleepy brain. He rubbed his eyes with his hands and tried to wake up. When his eyes focused, he looked at the clock on the nightstand. It read 1:47 a.m. Emil groaned softly. He wasn't happy to be woken up. Then the little black walkie-talkie beside the clock started making noise again.

"Emil?" Zoe was a little more persistent. "Hey wake up, would you? I know it's late, but I need you to come here."

Emil snatched up the walkie-talkie. "Zoe…oh man…sorry. I'm on my way."

Less than a minute later, Emil went into Zoe's room. She smiled weakly at him. "You don't have to apologize, Emil. I'm the one who woke you up. But I have a little problem."

Emil sat down on the bed beside her. "What? What can I do? Jus' name it."

Zoe looked away. "It's kind of embarrassing…"

"Zoe, you're sick wit' de flu, you shouldn' be embarrassed 'bout anyt'ing." Emil told her gently, taking the cloth he had brought in earlier and wiping her forehead with it.

"Well…I…um…I have to go to the bathroom. And I can't make it there by myself. I tried, but my legs just give out under me." Zoe admitted.

"Pshaw, is dat all?" Emil scoffed quietly. "C'mere, sit up."

Zoe, blushing slightly, did as she was told. Emil lifted her up into his arms and carried her out of the room, down the hall and into the bathroom. He set her down on the side of the bathtub, which was next to the toilet and gave her a wry grin.

"You t'ink you can make it from dere to dere an' back? 'Cause I ain' stayin' in here." 

Zoe chuckled. "Yeah. Thank you."

"Lemme know when you're done, I'll be jus' outside de door." Emil replied. "An' don' be t'anking me, right now, helpin' you is part of my job description. I don' mind."

Back in Zoe's room a few minutes later, Emil sat down on her desk chair and watched as she got comfortable in bed again. "You felt a little warm." He commented.

"I am warm." 

Emil got up and took the thermometer off her beside table. He shook it down and then held it out to her. "Open up," he commanded. Zoe obediently put the thermometer under her tongue and Emil kept time on his watch the way Tante Mattie had showed him. When the correct amount of time had passed, he took the thermometer out of her mouth and examined it.

He studied it for a few seconds before scratching his head and looking at Zoe. "You have any idea how to read dese t'ings?"

"Here," Zoe replied, reaching for it. After looking at it, turning it around in her fingers, she showed him. "A hundred and one point two."

Emil nodded and stood up. "Dat calls for a couple of Advil, doesn' it? An' maybe a popsicle or some orange juice?"

"I'd love some orange juice…do we have ice?"

"Oui, I t'ink we do. One o.j. wit' ice and two Advil comin' up. I'll be right back." Emil winked at her as he headed out.

Emil returned a few minutes later and handed her the Advil first and then the glass of juice, complete with ice. After Zoe took the pills and put the glass on the table, she leaned back on her pillows with her eyes closed. 

"My eyes hurt." She complained.

Emil took the washcloth and went to the bathroom. He ran it under cold water for a few seconds and rung it out, taking it back to the bedroom with him. He gently wiped her forehead and face with the cool cloth.

"That feels good." Zoe sighed. "I hate being sick."

"So doesn' everyone." Emil replied. He had to admit he wasn't entirely comfortable with his new position as caregiver. Six members of the New Orleans Unified Guilds were thieves. Of those six, five of them were direct descendants of original members of the Thieves Guild. And Emil was the youngest of those five descendants. He was usually the one who was taken care of, even now. But Zoe was younger than him, and it was his job to look after her when the others weren't there, so there he was.

Zoe fell asleep very quickly and Emil decided to follow her example. He left the room and went back to his own, settling back into bed and closing his own eyes.

The next morning, Emil was woken up by the sound of birds chirping outside his bedroom window. It was only six-thirty-eight a.m. Emil rolled his eyes and cursed at the feathered creatures, wishing he had Questa's gun.

Sighing, he threw back the covers and swung his legs out of bed. He pulled on his slippers and bathrobe and headed to see if Zoe was awake yet.

He peeked into Zoe's room and saw that his friend was still sleeping, so he left her alone and went downstairs to make some breakfast. When he entered the kitchen, Emil realized that something was very, very wrong.

The assassins weren't exactly the neatest people on the planet, Emil knew, but they would never normally leave the kitchen in such a state of disarray, especially not this early in the morning. Emil decided to go in search of the people who had made such a mess in the kitchen and make them clean it up. He certainly wasn't going to do it.

Emil found himself following a trail of cereal through the downstairs part of the safehouse, wondering why he hadn't noticed it when he came down in the first place. The trail led to the living room and when Emil got there, he stopped in his tracks and almost passed out.

Seated on the floor around the coffee table, bowls of cereal in front of them, were Bella Donna, Gris-Gris, Fifolet, Singer and Questa. Or so Emil hoped. It _looked_ like them, sort of. Well, actually, it looked like pint-sized versions of them. Like they had been turned into…children.

"Oh mon Dieu…" Emil breathed, leaning on the doorjamb. 

The five children looked at him, contempt on their young faces. "What're you lookin' at?" Gris-Gris demanded, standing and facing Emil with his hands on his hips. Emil actually found himself struggling not to laugh as he looked at the boy. He felt a twinge of satisfaction that he now towered over Gris, a man who normally towered over _him_.

"I'm lookin' at you…" Emil replied, wondering just what he had done in a previous life to deserve to have _this_ thrown at him when he really didn't need it.

Fifolet shook out his long dark hair and joined Gris in front of Emil. "Yeah, well, stop it."

Emil almost lost it. He couldn't believe they were still acting the same way they did as adults. It was hilarious. "Excuse me?" he choked out.

It was Questa's turn to speak. He joined his two friends, pulling out the gun he always carried as an adult. "If you don' stop…" he warned, pointing it at Emil.

Emil's eyes widened and he knew he had to take control of the situation before it got out of hand. The three boys in front of him were no more than ten years old. With Zoe out of commission upstairs and the others gone, Emil was the adult in charge of the house. The irony was not lost on him.

"Non, non, non…" he said, shaking his head. "I don' care who you are as adults. I don' care if you remember dis experience later an' get mad at me for it. I'm in charge. Not you." He reached over and plucked the gun out of Questa's hands. "And _you_ will get dis back when you grow up again."

Questa pouted and crossed his arms across his chest. "It's my gun."

Emil raised his eyebrows. "Yeah, it is. When you're an adult. Now go finish your breakfast. When you're done, I want you all to go clean up de mess you made in de kitchen."

Five young faces looked defiantly at Emil. "Non."

Emil sighed. 'Dis is gon' be one hell of a long week…' he thought. Out loud, he said, "Why not?"

Bella Donna glared at him. "B'cause we don' want to an' _you_ can' make us."

Emil decided to take the challenge. "Oh really? Well, den, you have a choice. You can clean up de mess you made, or you can spend de rest of de mornin' in your bedrooms wit' no television an' no music. It's up to you. You have thirty seconds to tell me what you decide."

"Non." Bella Donna told him. "You aren' our father, you can' tell us what to do. We don' have to do what you say."

"So you're not gon' clean up de mess?"

"Dat's right. You gotta problem wit' dat?" Gris wanted to know.

"As a matter of fact, oui, I do." Emil replied, his voice and face stony serious. "March."

"Come again?" Singer asked, confused.

"You heard me, Singer. All of you, upstairs. Now." Emil commanded.

"You can' keep us in our rooms." Fifolet protested.

"Wanna bet?" Emil asked, marching the five children up the stairs, pausing for a brief second to get some rope. Very thick rope. He put the five child assassins in their rooms and locked them in by tying all the doors together very tightly. They couldn't get out if they tried. They put up a fight and he knew he'd have a few bruises in awhile, but he did win. He hid the gun under the mattress in his bedroom, and then went to wake up Zoe.

When Zoe heard what was going on, she laughed. "Oh Emil, I'm sorry. I shouldn't be laughing. But I can't help you, except…I think you better get Remy down here. You're not going to be able to handle all five of them on your own for the rest of the week."

"Oui…"

Emil headed downstairs to use the phone. On his way down the upstairs hall, he heard the five young people shouting from their bedrooms and trying to open their doors. He knew they were angry with him, but he couldn't help laughing and being annoyed at the same time. "Oh read a book!" he yelled at them.

"No!" they all yelled back. They sounded very upset. Emil decided then and there not to let them out until Remy was there. He had a feeling they could kill him, even though they _were_ children.

Emil dialed the number to the Xavier School with slightly shaking fingers and waited for someone to answer.

"Good morning, Xavier's School." A charming voice answered.

"Uh…bonjour…is Remy dere?" Emil replied.

"Yes, he is. May I ask who is calling, please?" the voice replied.

"…Tell 'im it's Red. He'll know who you mean. An' tell 'im it's _really_ important." 

"Okay, I will. Please wait for a moment while I get him for you."

"T'anks."

Two minutes later, Emil heard Remy's voice on the other end of the phone. "Emil? What is it? What's happened?" Remy was the patriarch of the newly unified guilds, and he continually worried that the peace would so tits-up while he was in New York with the X-Men.

"Help…" Emil squeaked in a small voice.

"Emil? Help? Help why? Tell me!" Remy demanded. 

"Rem, you need to get down here, like, _now_." Emil told him. "Tante Mattie an' de others are off doin' somet'ing, I can' get 'hold of dem. I'm here wit' Zoe 'cause she has de flu. Dat's why we didn' go wit' dem. An' someway, somehow someone turned de assassins into ten-year-olds!"

"What?" Remy exclaimed.

"I'm not kiddin', mon ami, I wish to God I was. I've confiscated Questa's gun an' locked 'em all in deir rooms, mais I can' keep dem trapped all week, an' Tante an' de others aren' due back for six days…help!"

"Okay, Emil relax. I'm on my way. Keep dem locked up until I get dere. We'll figure somet'ing out." Remy said. "Dere has to be a logical reason for dis…"

"I sure as hell hope so…hurry Remy. I can hear 'em yellin' from here."

Emil hung up the phone and waited. Even with Remy there, he knew the next six days were not going to be easy ones. He just hoped they were up for the task. And he wished Tante Mattie were there. She was much better at handling children than he was. Hell, compared to her and half the guild, he was still a kid himself. So was Remy. It was going to certifiably be a long week…

To Be Continued


End file.
